


Paper Hearts and Bandaged Bruises

by YumeKawaii



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Latin Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Abandonment, Alfred Being an Asshole, Antonio Being an Asshole, Domestic Violence, F/M, Finding Love, Immortality, Mentions of Rape, Porn With Plot, Substance Abuse, Teaching BDSM, i promise there will be porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-21 16:01:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6057535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumeKawaii/pseuds/YumeKawaii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Nation who is no longer worthy of their title becomes what, exactly? The answer, put plainly: A waste of time and resources.</p><p>Nationkind twins Alejandra and Miguel share the duty of caring for Mexico. As time progresses, it's quite obvious Ale just isn't cut out to be a Nation. She's become something of a drug lord, and her peers have something to say about it. Rather than try to help, she is betrayed by her brother and "lover", and force-fed the curse to be human: a human's heart.</p><p>Abandoned by her supposed loved ones, Ale sinks deeper than ever. But there is a certain German willing to take her in and get her sorted out, if she's willing to be helped.</p><p>(( Ale is an OC I've been dying to work on for a very long time; she's my most developed RP character and she's very deserving of her own fic. Please enjoy her tormented life! I am currently writing from my phone in my spare time, so please bear with me though odd formatting and possible spelling errors.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 0

It was never easy for Alejandra to stand down. Centuries of family problems, substance abuse, and good old-fashioned delinquency gave her a personality not unlike an unruly teen. She was undoubtedly strong-willed, and never took no for an answer; she would do anything in her power to disobey. She was the kind of person that everyone could admire, if not for despising her. 

And as she kneeled on the cold concrete, arms bound tight behind her, that stubborn fire she posessed burned ever brighter.

"Oh, Ale," Alfred sighed, kneeling a safe distance away. "Why do you have to cause us all so much trouble? Look at yourself. You've become an animal. Vicious, filthy, and locked up in a box."

Alejandra snarled, pulling against her bindings. "Come a little closer, motherucker! I'll show you just how vicious an animal I am!'

Alfred clicked his tongue. "This isn't about me, baby girl, this is about you and Miguel and your little spat. Do you know how many of your people you've killed to prove your worth?"

"DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY OF MINE YOU SLAUGHTERED FOR YOUR SELFISH DREAMS?!"

A quick smack filled the concrete cell; a clear imprint of Alfred's knuckles welled on her right cheek. Alejandra bit down on the inside of her mouth, desperate to fight the pain. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her brother's shoes. He didn't even move to help her.

"You bastards," she hissed. Betrayed by her only true family, and beaten by her nightmare of a "lover". She raised her head to glare defiantly back at Alfred. "And what are you going to do about all this, huh? You gonna take some more of my land, knock me around 'til I act like a good girl?"

"I could do that," Alfred chuckled; she spat at his face. "Or I could strike up a deal with Miguel. See, we know you've been behind the murders. All those no-good, dirty scoundrels who think they're God on Earth. They're hurting the people you care about. I get you, Ale. You're a vigilante, deep down in your bitter little heart. But the thing is," - he stood, stepping closer to her - "You're a shitty person. Oh, and an even shittier Nation. Miguel and I have been cleaning up your messes for too long, baby girl. You're a grown-up, even if you are two beers away from full-time whore. And it's time we finally did something about it."

Alejandra heard the jail cell slide open. Her heart dropped.

Alfred grinned wickedly. "Oh, so you know what's gonna happen, then, huh? It's some nasty shit, isn't it?"

"S-Stop it," she stuttered out. "Miguel. . . Miguel, no! Miguel!"

"It's okay, hermanita," he whispered. "You can live the life you want, now. You don't have to be burdened with being a Nation anymore. Just leave everything to me. You'll be okay."

Alfred presented a small box. "Don't you wish it was a ring?" he chuckled. Inside the box lay a tiny piece of human flesh. 

Just a small, seemingly insignificant piece of meat.

Disgusting, of course, but its power against Nationkind was unmatched. You could shoot them, drown them, burn them alive and they would never die. But a human heart? Devouring what you held dear was considered so taboo it burned you up from the inside out. It stripped a Nation of their connection with their land, separated them from the souls they felt with every breath. It boiled on their skin like the entire country was set on fire, like they were feeling the murder of every single civilian at once.

Alejandra struggled fiercely against the sudden threat of her life. The real, actual threat a Nation had to fear: becoming human.

》》》

"Alejandra? Ale, wake up."

A gentle, worried voice echoed in her nightmares. The jail cell, Alfred, Miguel, the heart all vanished. All that remained was terror as that sweet voice dragged her back into reality. She gasped and sputtered, pulse shaking her so bad she couldn't keep from quivering.

"L-L-Ludwig," she whimpered, eyes wide. And then she gagged, empty stomach trying to upheave that terrible memory.

"Alejandra, listen to me." Ludwig cupped her face in his hands. "Look at me, concentrate." She shuddered and heaved and stared wide-eyed into her past. "Ale. Ale it's a nightmare. It's August 27, 1966. We're in Germany. Do you know where we are?"

The shivering Latina nodded, blinking tears from her eyes. "You came and found me, in Veracruz - and the killing never stopped - there was so much blood -"

Ludwig kissed her nose and pressed their foreheads together. "It did stop, Ale. It did. I promise. You have a home there. You didn't die, Ale. You're still here."

"In Heaven?" she asked slowly.

Ludwig couldn't help but crack a smile. "No, Ale, not yet. You're still on Earth."

Alejandra let out a few, shuddering breaths before regaining herself. She placed her hands over Ludwig's, not daring to meet his gaze. She was so scared. So scared of looking up and seeing Alfred laughing back at her, or worse, seeing herself.

"Ludwig?"

"Yes?"

". . .Ludwig."

"Alejandra?"

Tears welled in her eyes again. "Why am I still here?"

There was a dreadful silence. Ludwig hated this. Everytime Alejandra had this nightmare, she reverted back to the woman she was in 1913. Specifically, the fear she felt the night her world collapsed.

Only, it didn't really. By some strange magic, she'd retained her immortality. Perhaps it was too little amount of flesh to rob her of her life; perhaps God just decided to giver her a second chance when no one else would. Of course, she still wasn't allowed back into her country's capitol, and she was basically banished and left for dead. A few years later, when Ludwig traveled to Mexico, he met a barmaid with nothing left to lose. A one-night stand turned into so much more; the days blurred together in a frenzy of passion, eager to soak up the last good days.

But she'd lived this long without aging, and Ludwig counted his blessings for it every day. The longer Alejandra stayed with him, the more he fell in love with her.

"You're still here because I'm caring for you. When I saw you in Veracruz, you were practically starving yourself. If you were not going to take care of you, I was."

"That's not what I meant," she sighed, but dropped the subject.

There was a long silence, and then, "What time is it?"

"Just after three."

"And you're still in your uniform?" Alejandra frowned, pulling away. "Go to sleep."

"I had business to take care of as soon as I got home," Ludwig replied. "I was just finishing up when I heard you cry out."

"Shut up," Alejandra snapped, embarrassed.

Ludwig allowed himself another smile. "I'm going to bed. Do you need anything?"

"If I did, I'd get it myself," she grumbled.

"Alright. If you can't sleep, you know where to find me." And with that, Ludwig left her room.

Alejandra sat in her borrowed bed feeling hollow and confused. These nightmares always took so much out of her, and every time her caretaker came to the rescue, it always seemed to bring more confusion than resolution. His gentle touches, and those tiny smiles he tried to hide, stirred her up more than a riveting soap opera. And the way he talked to her, like he would talk to a child. But instead of chiding, he comforted. And that was something Alejandra never could get enough of. 

"Agh, fuck it, I'm already awake." Alejandra arose, dressed, and busied herself with simple tasks until the master of the house graced her with his company once more.


	2. Chapter 1

Let's take it back to the beginning. Before the fighting and the bloodshed and the greed, there were four children. Two were blonde and pale; two were raven-haired and bronze. Equal parts light and dark, each personality complimenting and contrasting the other. But there was something that made it uneven.

"You're a girl!"

What of it?

"Girls can't play with boys! It's against the rules!"

So little Ale played by herself and never let anybody tell her how to play her own games. 

One day, a very scary man stole her away from her home and forced her to work very hard on what he called a ship. This scary man had an even scarier smile - the kind of smile that gave her chills; the kind of smile Alfred would grow up to have - and he threatened her with her life if she didn't give him all she had. Alejandra never had much, but if she could make him go away, she would do it. So she showed him to her brother Miguel, and her "friends" Alfred and his brother Matthew. But Alfie and Matty had already been stolen away by two other scary men with scary smiles, and Miguel was left all alone. And then Ale realized she'd made a very big mistake, because the scary man never left, and forced Miguel to work even harder, and kept them locked up like animals.

The world around them began to change, and so, too, did the children. More people came to the land in search of treasures and fresh starts; Ale and Miguel felt each soul invade them, like insects under the skin, felt each individual's emotions at once. Ale began to understand what it meant to hate with her entire existence. There was a fire growing inside that told her to fight with all she had, and one day she fought back and couldn't get enough.

Ale grew and grew until her "father" saw her flesh ripe enough to taste. He separated her from Miguel, locking her up in his quarters. While the country of New Spain was ravaged for all its worth, he raped her again and again, and it never ended, and it broke her spirit and her heart and made her feel worthless. She'd been used, abused, and after a _very_ long time, abandoned. 

And then Alfred and Miguel came to rescue her, and that fight she'd lost came back - how could she trust them, when she'd made them get captured in the first place? What if this was just a trap? How could she bother to trust anyone at all, when all she'd known was how to fend for herself? Alfred saw that beaten dog that was Alejandra, and took it upon himself to fix her.

Thus began his narcissistic obsession with being the famed savior. 

Time went on and the children turned into adults. Modern civilization actually became somewhat civil, and they were treated with utmost respect, and they protected their lands at the right hand of human leaders. Except for Ale, anyway. There were no official positions for women in this kind of world. Especially not vile, rude, angry ones. Ale was ignored by all of Mexico, save for Miguel, who offered her a place beside him. Miguel took care of her and mended her until she could stand on her own.

And when the time came, he apologized so sincerely for his childhood faults that even Ale was moved to tears. She forgave him of their separation, the silly rules kids made, his inability to aid her sooner, and for their country's intolerance of women. She forgave him on the condition that he promised to make a better world for her. Miguel promised to try, but refused to make any changes. Ale realized that "trying" would never be enough.

So she went to find her own path, and became just as lost as she had been mere years before. She roamed broken streets and met broken people who worked hard for little to nothing, and befriended those who'd given up on everything but personal pleasure, and she discovered the magic that was consensual sex and alcohol and tobacco and marijuana and opium and a vast collection of other sins she never could have dreamed of.

And Miguel's hard work renewing his sister went to waste, so he summoned Alfred to assist in saving what was left. Only, Alejandra was very far from wanting help. In fact, she considered healed of all previous ailments with her newfound pleasures. Alfred found that the only way to reach Ale was to join her. She was so far gone some days that she didn't even recognize him. That would not do; if his damsel in distress didn't know of him, who would? So he agreed with very little reluctance.

One day, Ale found herself drowning in wanton desires, unable to share a deep bond with humankind that she could with another Nation. Alfred complied, burrowing deep into her battered heart. He used her lust to twist her into complete obedience to his every whim. It became more than just another rescue mission to Alfred; supply this little wretch with a number of poisons and he had himself his personal slut. Miguel didn't need to know. As far as Mexico was concerned, the old Alejandra was as good as gone. Alfred had made a new Ale, and she was so much worse than the last.

The strain of Ale's substance abuse became so rampant it actually affected the people of the land. Where Nations felt what their people felt, the people felt what Alejandra felt. The entire country battled a nightmare that was only getting stronger. Unfortunately for Ale, she was much too gone to see what had become of her. While Miguel struggled to mend the fabric of his people's lives, Alfred decided Ale needed a cleanse. Miguel was likely to call for her, and she was far from presentable. So Alfred turned to something different than sexual pleasure to cure her - physical pain.

He worked up the courage to slap her around - what hero could be asked to do such a thing?- and he realized her pain brought on a new kind of pleasure. One that only he felt. Ale became his stress relief at the end of a long day. She was covered from head to toe in bruises. Broken bones were not as rare as Alejandra wished. She retreated inside herself once more, reliving the torture a frightful beast once put her through.

Upon seeing that their mistakes could not be fixed, Alfred and Miguel conspired to kill her. They force-fed her a human heart and left her to rot. Ale would never make the mistake of forgiving him again.

She ran.

She ran and ran until her legs could hardly carry her any further, rested, and ran even more. She found herself a little place in Veracruz and a job serving beer to old men. It was dreadfully dull, but she could drink all she wanted. It was simply a front to waste away what little time she had left.

Enter Ludwig: a huge, intimidating foreigner in a uniform Alejandra had only seen in photographs. He was undoubtedly Nationkind. That weight that settled on his shoulders, that tired look in his eyes that a man seemingly in his early thirties shouldn't feel. He sat at the furthest table from the door, quietly rustling through papers and observing the crowd. He looked to be waiting for someone important, and Alejandra could only guess it was another Nation. She felt some strange desire to communicate, despite the dread crawling up her spine. She edged towards him with a beer and a menu.

And then he spoke, and Alejandra was faced with an uncertain blend of attraction and disgust.

"Nein, danke."

German. If he really was Nationkind, then it was his fault the world was in the midst of a great war.

"Ah. . .no. No, thank you." His stern expression faltered, a more perturbed face replacing it. And when English seemed to fail, he shook his head several times.

Alejandra ran her tongue along her teeth. "If you can't buy, leave." Her English, though coarse, was enough to get the point across.

"I'm waiting," the soldier spoke slowly. "I will buy a drink when they arrive."

She shot a quick glance toward the counter; it was the middle of the day and the drunkards were still sleeping. Her boss wouldn't have minded if she sat. So, she did. Right across from the white man struggling to not look quite so out of place.

He muttered something in his native tongue, scooping his belongings into a well worn briefcase. "Yes, what is it?" he growled.

"You are waiting for who?" she asked, opening the beer bottle and taking a swig. Speaking formal English was difficult.

The tension built between them. He gritted his teeth, refusing an answer.

"If you are waiting for Miguel, he won't come. He sends, ah, others. He is too busy. Or too scared," she scoffed.

"Miguel?" he responded. Were Nations well-known in this country? His concern offered many things to Alejandra's imagination.

"You are waiting for him?" she asked, leaning in. The soldier nodded once. Ale grimmaced. "He is a traitor."

"How so?" he asked, intrigued.

Alejandra wanted so desperately to confide in someone who would have understood her struggles, but her tongue forbade it. Her broken English and previous errors in judgement pulled her away. "He killed me," she hissed. She removed herself from his table and hid in the kitchen without another word for the rest of the night.

Ludwig's appointment did not go according to plan. He'd hoped to meet the Nationheads of Mexico at the capitol. Last he'd heard, there were two. But this barmaid, who bore resemblance to an old photograph he obtained, claimed Miguel murdered her. He swallowed, not wanting to imagine it. He knew what it meant. He once had a brother who met the same fate.

Later in the evening, when Ludwig grew tired of waiting, a young boy delivered to him a telegram. He didn't even bother to read it; his appointment had been canceled last-minute. So he stayed very late, and drank just enough beer to be allowed his table. (Which, by other standards, was quite a lot.) He waited for the barmaid to come back. She'd have to leave the kitchen at some point, right? Then the sun set, and the moon rose and fell, and the tavern closed for the night. Ludwig waited outside the door with a crumpled photograph in his hand. If that woman really was Nationkind, there was a slim chance she could be of use.

**Author's Note:**

> A Brief History Lesson:
> 
> ¤ 1909 - The Mexican Civil War Begins
> 
> Revolutionaries begin to kill high ranking leaders in Northern Mexico; they are aiming to achieve a more liberal state. USA is asked to help end the murders. America sends troops into Mexico.
> 
>  
> 
> ¤ 1912 
> 
> Mexican Revolutionary forces are greatly weakened due to America's superior strength.
> 
>  
> 
> ¤ 1913 September - Mexican Civil War ends
> 
> In return for their support, Mexico begrudgingly gives a large portion of its northern lands to America. Mexico is grateful for the help, but America sees an opportunity to expand. "Manifest Destiny".


End file.
